


Next Year Our Troubles Will Be Miles Away

by Browneyesparker



Series: Christmas [11]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Angst, Christmas, F/M, Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, Jisbon, Romance, Songfic, The Mentalist - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 08:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2845073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Browneyesparker/pseuds/Browneyesparker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She would hum Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas while they shopped, he could still hear her whispering next year all our troubles will be miles away like it was a secret message just for him. Christmas. Pre-My Blue Heaven. Rated K . Based on the Judy Garland song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Year Our Troubles Will Be Miles Away

**Author's Note:**

> You can thank my future BIL for this one-shot, we were talking about my Christmas stories and he told me that I should write an even 12. . . like the 12 Days of Christmas. After he said that and after hearing Judy’s version of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas this story crept up on me. I hope you enjoy, the title comes from the song that inspired the story!

 

.

Patrick Jane didn’t even remember it was Christmas Eve until he heard the old woman across the street singing O Holy Night in stilted English. He glanced at his desk calendar and saw that it was indeed December 24th. He felt a pang when he saw the date, Lisbon usually reminded him it was the holidays. She would coax him into a tuxedo and take him to the CBI Holiday ball, where they would dance to sweeping orchestral versions of Christmas classics and give the other employees something to talk about over their stale coffee and raw bagels the next morning. 

Lisbon would laugh the gossip off and take him out to buy little gifts for the rest of the team. She would hum Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas while they shopped, he could still hear her whispering next year all our troubles will be miles away like it was a secret message just for him. 

It was next Christmas again and their troubles still weren’t miles away but she wasn’t there to remind him that they could be.

He rubbed his face wearily and tried not to think about her or the way her face lit up when they had found the perfect gift for Van Pelt. He tried not to think about her at Stanley’s house in Chicago, swaddled in an oversized sweater and thinking about him while she watched the snowfall and her nieces tried to convince her to play Monopoly with them and their brothers.

His throat tightened and he burst out of his room, sucking in the balmy South American air. He shut the door behind him and jetted down the stairs, he needed to get away from his memories of her.

But she was still at the outdoor bar he frequented. It’s a Wonderful Life was playing on the TV and it was at the part where George Bailey was praying, I want to live again, I want to live again. . . 

Even in Spanish, Jane felt the other man’s despair acutely. He so desperately wanted to live again too.

But he wasn’t sure he could do it again without Lisbon’s help. At the same time, he couldn’t ever go back home to her. So, living again wasn’t really an option. Not in the way it was for other men who had come before him.

He went home at the end of the movie and stretched out on his bed even though it was too early to go to sleep. He stared up at the ceiling fan instead, still conjuring up Lisbon’s face much to his chagrin. He didn’t want to let slumber steal him away because she would be in his dream, waiting for him like she did every night. Except tonight, it would be worse.

Jane covered his face with his arm and released a sigh, wondering what it was about the holidays that managed to bring about an intense sense of loneliness in a person. A fact about suicides doubling at Christmas flitted through his mind.

But he couldn’t do that.

Not when he could see Lisbon’s emerald green eyes so clearly in his mind and not when he could still hear her whispering until then we’ll have to muddle through somehow. . .

He was going to do that until he could see her again. Even if he had to wait until he was an old man.

He finally drifted off into a lonely sleep, clinging to the ghost of her even though it was suffocating him.

.

A world away, Lisbon was staring out the window at the snow falling on her mailbox. She had forgone the family celebration this season, choosing to stay in Washington and cling to the memories of Christmases past and lyrics from a Judy Garland song she had whispered to Jane like a prayer of encouragement.

It’s a Wonderful Life was playing on her TV, Jimmy Stewart was reiterating I want to live again, reflecting her personal feelings exactly. Except for the fact that she was living as best as she could, she didn’t have a right to find a kindred spirit in George Bailey.

She rubbed her arms and turned away from the window; she powered down the television and padded to her room, not quite ready to go to sleep but tired of facing Christmas Eve all by herself. She crawled under the covers without changing or brushing her teeth and watched the winter evening cast familiar shadows on her ceiling while she daydreamed about next Christmas, mouthing until then we’ll have to muddle through somehow over and over again like Jane could still hear her.

.

It was Christmas Eve. The celebration was in full swing at Stanley Lisbon’s house. His kids tried to convince Jane and Lisbon to play a quick round of Dutch Blitz with them while they waited for their Chinese food dinner to come. A TV music station was playing Christmas music on loop, Judy Garland was singing next year our troubles will be out of sight, a reminder of everything that had lead him to this point. 

Jane took a seat next to Lisbon while Annie dealt out the cards to make sure the game was fair and square, he hooked his pinky through hers, holding it underneath the Santa Claus tablecloth. His heart was bursting with unspeakable joy which was a funny emotion for him because even though he had been happy in the past few months, it was nothing compared to what he was feeling this particular Christmas Eve in the Lisbon household.

But he was absolved from all his past sins and Lisbon was really with him. They were together in every sense of the word and all their troubles truly were miles away, there was no more muddling through until they finally were. He guessed he was entitled to a little piece of unspeakable joy. He guessed he was entitled to feel a little bit like a little boy in the wee small hours of Christmas morning. 

Next Christmas had finally arrived. 

_The End_

 

.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little one-shot, I confess I wrote it in a little over 12 hours. But it wouldn’t let me go until I got it all down on paper. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts.
> 
> Merry Christmas everybody! Much love to all my beloved readers.


End file.
